Open Chronicles Valor

[Kiros Rahnel]

The good news would have been heartening, were there not the promise of complication accommodating it. The awaited misfortune remained to be heard, and Kiros imagined that it must be dire enough to threaten their situation.

"The bad news, is that we expect it to be overrun." Grunni added, proving such pessimistic assessment correct.

To be attacked was one matter, but Grunni’s words implied belief that the loss of their position would be inevitable. Having witnessed the mentality of the orcs, there was little doubt that they could put forth the offense required to do so. The last battle against them had been arduous enough – and here they held no option to withdraw. They had been relentless in battle, disregarding death and even resorting to undeath in their pursuits. Of such savagery that the Abtati seemed hospitable in contrast.

Sardrun however, would surely find safety once they arrived. He’d be among the first to withdraw, along with those injured in need of medical aid. The orcs would be unable to get the boy, but grimly it was realized that slaughter may well have been their sole motivation. The dwarves could not travel through the portal stone in high volume, the process must be slow and gradual. Each one to leave would be unable to defend, and it would be only a matter of time before numbers dwindled enough to allow the orcs to overrun their position. Such was all but guaranteed to happen as Captain Grunni implied it would.

Words of solemn appreciation were spoken of the Army, further telling of the seriousness of the situation. As much resolve as Kiros held, it was all solely motivated towards the protection of Sardrun. Upon reaching the portal stone in a few days time Sardrun would surely depart for the safety of home. To see that happen was Kiros' greatest present hope – and once it did, his sole reason to fight and sacrifice would vanish as well.

As he reflected on this, Captain Grunni made his closing statement:

"You've done your part, and you've done it well. You have express permission from myself and Major Angrumm to depart with Sardrun and the wounded through the Stone back to Belgrath, if you so wish. Or you can stay and fight at the fort for as long as you'd like, catch another wave back. Whatever happens..."

A relief, though Kiros dared not display it before those who must stay and face certain death. To hear such news and yet bravely remain regardless was a true testament to the discipline of the dwarven Marines. Remembering an Amol-Kalit of decades past, he could not imagine receiving such news from superiors. Were a Kaliti officer to honestly report it, desertion of the ranks would be nigh immediate. Such as it was in land and time where kingdoms shifted as often as the wind-swept dunes, with greed and the pursuit of power being common causes for war. There could be no discipline from the old Kaliti ranks, for there was none from the leadership.

Yet the dwarves could receive this news without doubt that they'd remain. Captain Grunni truly cared about his troops, and had delivered brutal but respectful honesty to them. The dwarves had their home for a great length of time, and had formed a formidable sense of honour in defending it. Faith could be held that their kin would be cared for, and what sacrifice they'd be bid to make would be for the greater good.

At that, Kiros realized the difference between the two armies. The dwarves had a home worth fighting for.

There remained the option to stay in danger's path and do further battle, as Captain Grunni had so extended. To voluntarily do so himself was not even slightly entertained; this was neither his home, nor his cause, nor was there much hope for survival. Kiros looked to Heike, who looked to be in worried and conflicted state as if she might be entertaining such a notion. Having known her and her ideals in their time and travels together, he well believed she might.

"Send a prayer up to which god or gods you like. Our Ancestors will be watching over us all the same." Spoke Captain Grunni. There would be no prayer made to The Six, for while he considered them to be the holiest of the gods, they would surely not listen to the prayer of one with soul so tarnished.

Instead he would pray to Itra – not out of want, but need. The requisite amount of time had passed since he last did so, and failure to commune would forfeit Her granted holy magic and deliverance from The Pit.

Kiros set about construction of his altar. The task was simpler this time as he had one prepared and with him. A small square board was pulled from his bag of belongings, with short dowel-ended poles serving as the altar table's legs. It was completed upon attaching the legs to the board and draping the embroidered sheet of linen over it. The process took seconds, a tiny fraction of the usual set up time.

For this, he had the dwarves to thank. When they had seen what makeshift altar he'd constructed the dwarves had a hearty laugh, citing the sorry structure as a 'prime example of human craftsmanship'. Kiros was soon gifted his present version as replacement. One quickly hewn from scrap materials, but to a dwarven standard of construction. He imagined his old altar was still around and eliciting laughter from amused dwarves.

A great benefit that he could set up with such speed, for there remained only minutes before they would depart. As he had finished, Heike spoke, and Kiros turned his head and attention towards her.

"I will endeavor to defend the Ixchel fort for as long as I can."

His assumptions had proved correct, although there was hesitancy in her reply. Fear, doubtless overcome by honour and sense of duty. Unshared by Kiros, though he'd give neither a reaction of discouragement nor support. But another adventurer had words to add:

“You won't be alone in such a feat,” Spoke Dal, stepping forth to address the group soon after. Kiros paused with the completed altar in hand while the half orc continued:

“We've all fought together. Some of you I know by name now. We have prowess behind us. Do not doubt this. With blade and magic we can stand as one, our own contingent, our own force to be reckoned with. I say to you this. We should not be the last to stand. That is for the dwarves.”

The stalwart warrior spoke without fear in continued address to all present. He would remain and he would fight, and ultimately he believed that they ought to as well. Kiros would give no correction, for Dal would doubtlessly ignore it. Yet even if there was belief that Dal would listen there would be no outspoken objection, for the brash half-orc had chosen his path and had done so with conviction. Agreement was irrelevant – Kiros would still not stifle such selfless and valiant notions, even if they were unshared. Dal was correct in that Kiros had his own causes to attend. He had salvation to seek, and a goddess to escape; one who often enough put him at risk of death in Her quests. He'd need not take such risks voluntarily.

"I stand with Herr Heike! Will you stand against what approaches with us? Will you be unbroken? Will offer one final blow to the enemy? Will you stand with us?” Dal concluded. Kiros feigned a look as if he was in deep musing of the words – which he somewhat was; they were well delivered. Yet he was unconvinced, and would give no affirmation to the dare. Neither would he protest. Those who would remain were noble to do so, and he would much rather not be the bringer of unneeded discouragement. Dal's question implied expected answer however, and if Kiros were not to give it, he'd need to find some means to deflect it and withdraw from the gathering.

“Time is short; I must pray” Kiros spoke in stoic tone. Perhaps an excuse, but the statement was entirely true. Hearing Dal out had cost precious time, and there was little more to spend. There was not even enough to marvel at the rare circumstance; one in which She was useful.

With staff laid on the ground at his side, Kiros knelt down and began to meditate in silent prayer.

“Itra, I give report to you, and affirm my unending obedience and loyalty.” The opening words of prayer were but mandatory greeting.

And not a moment before you’re obliged.
Tell Me now then of why you're present here,
And why you must constantly cross His path?

“I know not why the War-Father's-”

Ever it is that you know not a thing!
What brought you to battle? Why are you here?

“For coin.” Kiros made his response brief in hopes She would gain no interest in his current endeavours. The less he made mention of, the less likely that was to occur; the less involved She remained, the better.

Despite valued services you possess?
Reveal to Me your true motivations!

Kiros paused. Obscurity through brevity had done nothing to appease Her. Short of time and in lack of any other answer to give, he was left with little other choice than to report his intent.

“...To save the young dwarven boy.”

Thus you involve Me on quest to save him,
And so soon after former indolence!
Was it not enough to help save The Crook?

“I sought not to trouble you with involvement on my task.” A truth if there ever was one. Involving Her in Farreach had been a mistake made in frustration and anger, that She had displayed clear.

Yet I am here, as is the War-Father!
All for misplaced impulse of bravery.

“We are moving towards the portal stone, and with haste. I am days away from leaving the War-Father and battle behind-”

Make no such coward's retreat! Shame Me not!

“But the battle is not one that-” The statement would not be completed, for She would not hear his reasoning before interrupting again.

As you arrived to play valiant role,
Thus remain to act the part! You shall stay.
Go make display of your imagined worth,
And do not depart before I bid so!

Once the lines of communication were cut, Kiros promptly and dejectedly dismantled the altar. His former stoic expression had been exchanged for one of worry. He now had his answer to Dal's question, to great fear. On rejoining the others, he would make verbal delivery of it.

“I too, shall remain in company.” He spoke the words in solemn tone, yet devoid of enthusiasm for the now agreed upon task.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Tarathrieal Heike Eisen Dal Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Felix Whitbane

 

[Felix Whitbane]

OOC are we taking turn in this thread, or is it just meant to be responded to by whoever has the time?

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

His chin tilted up.

---

Rain.​

---

His eyes closed shut.

There is no way out.

There was certainty in this, the dwarves knew...
​

Behind their lids his eyes looked to one way, and then the other. He thought of the days behind, the strife he had faced in his years. He dwelled on the tragedy that had become of his home, and the sorrow of his own kind raising their blades against him. Quite clearly in this moment he remembered that dreadful fight.

---

The clashing of steel rang out in his mind.

Quiet steps. Quiet breath.​

---

He'd slain Aidathin first. They had been as brothers. Pain burned like fire through his blood with the act.

Then, with a blow finally fatal to who he'd once been, Te'leis too fell by his hand. He held her in his arms, and saw something in her eyes that he had never known before this day, this day when kindred swords were drawn against another. But for a moment after, briefly before she passed, there was clarity in her eyes and the hatred was washed away.

Glee, and then, grief, and then...

Erën's thoughts now moved forward, and it was not so far ahead he needed to see. There was a task for him yet, beyond this one. It was one that whispered of sorrow, warning of the dreary days that lay ahead. Dread which he himself sought to take on. He felt he needed to see its end, before his could come about. But as did anyone, he supposed. Because now that he too had decided, quietly, that he would remain and outlast these orcs for as long as he could that perhaps he, like so many if not all before him, would come to his end before he had ever intended.

"I will also remain," he said, as would any like him.

As would any Sword of the Order.

---

Heike Eisen | Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest | Tarathrieal
Dal | Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr | Kiros Rahnel ​

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

(OOC: I've got a bit to cover here so bear with me.)

Cauldwin had made it to his blade wedged in grey muck. He set the weighted head of the maul in the ground, he then drew the blade from the mud. The gloppy grey fluid slopped off the blade against gravity, the rain that beat against it cleaned the remaining particles from the blade. It shinned even now in the dim light of the covered evening sky. He brought his damaged appendage close to the blade off instinct to carress his the nameless blade, one of the few things he owned.

Lightning flashed, and in the gleaming refection he could see the scarred and black-bloodied flesh behind his helm though the cavern-like eyeholes bored into his vissagless helmet. He distinctly felt that primal rage clawing at the back of his skull, or perhaps it was brain damage and a fractured skull? Either way, he knew one of his biggest quarries was here. Heike. Likely they did not know what she was, the dwarves, Kiros, Gil... if they did, why would they ever tolerate her abominable presence. Of course that isn't why he seeks her judgement, she could be a literal demon straight out hell for all he cared... she had a hand in his death.

The orcs don't get to kill the bitch, not the hordes of the undead, not even the gods. Until he heard her confess: only Cauldwin got to decide her fate. Then his thoughts were interrupted by a certain wiring in his mind that drew his attention to the outskirts of the fold, into no mans land: the command of a necromancer. He resisted the call, despite the irrefutable power behind that influence (See Cauldwin's "Iron Mind" trait)

This situation went from bad to worse. Powerful necromantic powers were at work, it seems he was never able to escape a necromancers presence for more than a week. A shame really, he had thought for a moment a horde of orcs had actually led themselves, but following the stereotype: be it dragons, necromancers, or hellspawn they are never capable of military conquest without existing as another creatures' tool. Fitting he supposed, the peoples existence would always be characterized by dull wit and savagery, countless engagements for Alliria and he had never seen any other action from 'true orcs'. The Warfather was right to wish their race exterminated, still, he knew a few orcs not born into tribes: though short tempered they were good people, there was proof their race was not waste of the celestials creation.

Hopefully Kiros's god would warn him of the dangers, and perhaps he would be able to be the linchpin in the unnatural forces destruction. He pondered if from their time in those mountainous blighted swamps he had pieced together his nature. If he had, he wondered if he would simply attempt to destroy him on sight. Then there was Gil... They had met in a frontier town and he had been more than ready to strike down a worshiper of a dark god and Cauldwin. Unless he was truly a fool, he knew what Cauldwin's nature was. After all the Lawbringer still had the burn scars from those radiant weapons of his.

He began to march in the direction of the dwarven braziers red-orange light. Then the the lightening cracked again and he saw it an injured dwarf in a bank, holding back his feral, bloodied, brother in arms. The wounds the feral one had distained were doubtless fatal for dwarven biology, and he should know, he'd killed more than few of the hairy midgets. He had to get to the front, but he couldn't march on and do nothing. He gave his greatblade a twirl before sheathing it, then he picked up the commandeered tribal maul. He then approached the injured dwarf fending off his reanimated friends snapping, half broken jaw.

He fought ferociously truing to keep his friend from going for his throat only barely guarded by his dented garget, the living one's right leg and left foot had been completely torn from his body. Likely do to an explosion, he had shrapnel lodged up and down his chest plate, the crimson ichor seeped though and down his thick black beard. He spat, cursed, and begged his friend to get off of him. His former brother in arms had been blown in half, his frayed red beard threatened to tear off his broken snapping jaw. Then the living one looked up and saw Cauldwin.

Cauldwin's green glowing eye peered into the dwarf's eyes as they narrowed from fear as he looked at the pale armored juggernaut in the dark, he roared stubbornly at the monster that towered above him, "Sel, grimgy fronga! Ush kal fron selgra! (Com'on, finish it! You couldn't take a stand'n dwarf!)" Cauldwin without word, slowly raised the maul and brought forward into the undead dwarf's arm and chest, tearing off its left arm, and with the force ripping off its jaw and mangling its right arm, as well as sending it into the muck. The dwarf looked up at Cauldwin bewildered, Cauldwin replied as he hoisted the dwarven marine on his back, "Come now mater dwarf, not all tallfolk warriors are craven and incompetent."

The Dwarf coughed, out an exasperated response that would pass for a thank you from a dwarf, "Aye... was a clean strike... I had it handled 'course." Cauldwin did not buy this of course, but he knew better than to argue with a dwarf. The dwarf continued, "Ya' shoulda... left me... my legs..." Cauldwin cut him off, knowing that any lapse in moral could result in the dwarf slipping away, "It's just an excuse to get some metal prostetics, they'll call you the 'Ironstanding'! Or... the 'Unbreakble!', you'll be fighting off the wenches with a warhammer... what's your name..? The dwarf scoffed and then retorted tired, "Yorr... Yorr Shonbrag (Stone-Spine)" He nodded in response, "Alright Yorr, we're heading to the front, there'll be songs about you yet. Just hand in there." They both laughed grimly.

He trudged on until even in the storm the pallisades of the stronghold were in his sight, then Yorr spoke to Cauldwin, "Your from Alliria, aint ya..?" He replied with a false name, "Damocles."
Yorr spit out blood with a weezing giggle at a what he could easily tell was a fake name, "Well, that name's shite... was born there myself... that was... seventy years?" Cauldwin gave a coy remark at this, "Ya carry yourself... like a deathseeker... Are ya?" Cauldwin replied, "In a sense..." He spoke with a certain grim finality to his next words, "Listen... and don't breath a word about what I tell you... I've seen what deathseekers go through... they're already dead... nothing but rage and hate left... there's a reason it's one of the worst fates a dwarf can face... no honor... no home... no kin... but you ain't a dwarf... you can choose somethin' to live for... rather than die for... nothin'... if not... a warrior's last thoughts should be of where your...", they were just passing the outer palisades.

He carried him back the dwarven stronghold, he roared as he entered the light with the bleeding dwarf on his back, he dropped the tribal maul and the sight of the ghostly titan carrying the bloodied dwarf cause the patrolling marines to look at him with shock, "I NEED A HEALER!" Before setting Yorr down against a wall, his comrades only looked at him grimly. Cauldwin became annoyed at this, he began to yell orders like a drill sergeant, "DID YOU HEAR ME MARINE? GET A-" He looked down at the pale unresponsive Yorr. He couched down and tore off his gauntlet in his left elbow he then put his hand to Yorrs' neck searching for a pulse. Nothing, he grabbed his gauntlet and stood up with a jolt, "No, no. We just spoke- He was- damn..." He then grabbed his maul continued on, he had to inform those in command as to what was to come.

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas​

Kiros Rahnel​

Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest​

Tarathrieal​

Dal​

Heike Eisen​

Savan Shade​

Felix Whitbane​

 

[Heike Eisen]

THE IXCHEL NORTH FORT​

Hard marching. Seemingly endless hard marching.

Heike could feel the weight of the famed dwarven endurance bearing down on her. Among dwarves not trained under military rigor their endurance was already impressive compared to a human's, but the Arragoth Marines, the soldiers of the 1st as well, were all in peak form and condition, compounding that endurance into something truly astounding. She banished any intruding thoughts of a similar endurance once possessed whilst she was a vampire, squelching any temptation to even think such a "gift" to be a boon in light of its horrid cost. Legs sore, feet aching, Heike was merely glad that the end of their long march was in sight.

Across the stretch of mostly flat badlands, there stood the hastily constructed wooden fort. The Ixchel North Fort.

And there was not an orc in sight. Yet.

Heike reckoned that the Blights had to be gathering to the south, the southeast, and the southwest--effectively cutting off the dwarves from simply marching away into friendlier territories. Even at the great distance, Heike could see that a number of those sparse southern trees had been felled (in the effort to build the fort), but there was as well a long series of hills and ridges that way as well. Enough to screen the sight of the orcs. But they had to be there. It was the cunning move.

Still, at any time, the enormous horde of them could crest those hills and come screaming down them and charging at the fort. It was a blessing that they were not already doing so, for the dwarves needed every minute, every second, that the enemy allowed for them. Heike made no mistake. Here, unfortunately, the enemy would dictate the flow of the battle. The dwarves would be hopelessly on the defensive, holding out as long as they could. And they all knew it. Grimly accepted it.

So had Heike. She and Dal, whose rousing speech had cemented his determination to hold out as long as possible. She and Gil'Tyrnin, whose faith was as strong as steel and his conviction unbreakable. She and Kiros, whose compassion and stalwart resolve had kept Sardrun safe and had gotten the boy this far. She and Erën, whose dedication to duty, no matter the odds, made her heart swell in admiration and as well brought honor to his Order.

All of them had accepted it. This battle they could not hope to win.

Heike spared a glance down to Sardrun then; the boy had stayed quite close to Kiros for the duration of the march, and still he kept near the priest. She smiled.

The battle they could not hope to win, yes, but victory would be theirs perhaps before it even began. When Sardrun was, at long last, safe in Belgrath, there would be nothing the orcs could do.

For Heike maintained that no matter the losses suffered, no matter the supposed imbalance of the scales, scores of dead Marines and soldiers weighed against the life of a single boy, that it was unquestionably right that this raid to recover him had taken place. These dwarves did not abandon their own, and for that they had from Heike her undying respect.

* * * * *​

The embattled Marines entered the fort. As did the detachment led by Major Angrumm himself to escort them, rejoining the rest of their company.

"Get the wounded gathered around the Stone!" Major Angrumm shouted in general to the dwarves manning the fort. There had been several probing attacks against the fort by the Blights, and the 1st had endured their own share of casualties to match the Marines. "I want that Stone activated in five minutes, Arragoth!"

Responding calls of "Aye!" from Major Angrumm's soldiers sounded from around the fort, and some of the dwarven soldiers set about team-carrying their wounded comrades toward the small dirt circle (where nothing grew) around the Portal Stone. Other soldiers continued to the man the ramparts of the fort, the majority of them keeping close observation of the southerly directions. Captain Grunni merely cast a look back to his Marines, made a small forward gesture with his head, and they carefully retrieved their wounded down from the mules and began carrying them toward the Stone too.

Heike turned to face Sardrun. Said, "It's time for you to go. You're almost home, Sardrun."

The boy, still at Kiros's side, eyed Heike with a touch of uncertainty, as if this were all a dream from which he would soon wake to find himself back in the nightmare of Ungbarroud. He looked up toward Kiros, and said as innocently as only a boy his age, having gone through the horrors he had endured, could, "You'll be right after me...won't you?"

As Kiros gave his answer, Heike had a moment to consider just how relieved she was. She thought nothing of putting her own life at hazard when so demanded by duty. From the very moment she had received her Accolade from King Rommel, she had accepted the responsibility that came with wielding the sword in defense of what she held dear, this responsibility very much including the ultimate sacrifice. But Sardrun? A child? She had worried herself sick for his well-being ever since they found him at Ungbarroud. Now, at least, he would be safe. In a small matter of minutes, he would be safe.

And then she noticed Cauldwin.

White shock stilled her breath. She glanced to Dal, to Gil, to Erën, and then back over to Cauldwin. That armor, though horribly damaged and stained, was the same she had seen briefly during the Second Battle. It was him. And this marked the second time that she had thought him dead, only for him to return. Yet it certainly could not be worse timing. When she had been a vampire, when he had come to her for help, events had soured and he thought that she had betrayed him. He likely still thought this now. And there was no telling what he would do, for Heike found his motives to be inscrutable. After his accusation of her, she did not trust him in the least.

"Sardrun, go. Now," Heike said. And the boy looked puzzled alarmed.

Heike didn't take her eyes off of Cauldwin. Her hand found its way up to rest on the hilt of her sheathed longsword.

To Dal, Gil, Kiros, and Erën, she said, "Be ready."

The dwarven Marines and soldiers, occupied as they were with their tasks, did not yet take much notice.

Dal Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Felix Whitbane

 

[Dal]

“Be ready,” was the only command required to immediately summon an action from Dal.

Dal made a step forward and to the right of Heike's position. He barely had a minute between the hard march and being pressed into service again, but Dal did not complain. Dal considered that complaining was for those with some authority. That complaining was for those who were fatally caught off guard by a changing situation instead of responding to it as quickly as it presented itself. He knew that those who could adapt and react survived in combat and kept vigilant as not to betray this hard won truth of his career.

He had not complained when the order to quick march had been delivered. He had kept up, managed to endure the hurried yet disciplined pace the dwarven military struck. And so to this, he reacted.

Dal looked through his visor at the one who Heike set them against and his eyes narrowed.

The maul that Cauldwin carried sparked something within Dal. As his hand went to his own sword, a diminutive thing in comparison to the heft and weight of his potential opponent's weapon, and Dal's mind performed it's duty.

My blade might be sundered by a single stroke of such a weapon, Dal thought grimly, his hand gripping his own tightly. He felt his muscles coil and felt the itch, the longing to release the weapon from the ensnarement of its scabbard. It would be so easy to initiate combat instead of this tension consuming precious moments before the onslaught to come. He felt the burning in his legs subside as each second restored him from the march, how he felt the cool breeze dry the sweat upon his brow reaching him the visor window.

No, I must wait until the situation reveals itself, Dal thought. Heike is in command here. She readied me. And so I stand. Poised. Waiting. For this one to do something monumentally stupid before the monumentally overwhelming takes this place by storm.

Such is the life of the soldier, Dal thought. To follow commands when issued. To fight even when the odds are against you. To fight for money. To fight for the person beside you. This is the life I know. This one is but a prelude before the orcs. And I am ready for it.

I'll cut this one's legs in a powerful stride forward, Dal decided, when the moment comes, if the order is given, if violence emerges here, I'll cut true and bring this titan down to his fucking knees. I don't know why his eyes glow green, but I am certain it doesn't mean this one is our ally. If someone's eyes glow, it generally means they're some mage about to unleash havoc, or they're possessed, Dal thought. He pursed his lips as he considered it.

From what I've heard about possession that's true, Dal thought to himself. Am I the only one not quite used to dealing with this arcane nonsense?

The thoughts were quashed swiftly as Dal's hand twisted upon the grip of his sword. His thoughts proceeded as his hand was but a reaction away from being torn free. Good soldiers, the ones that stay alive, don't complain, Dal reminded himself. They kill and kill again at the behest of their superiors. This was it was to be a soldier. Marching and killing. Killing and marching.

“On your order,” Dal said quietly to Heike, his helmet not turning from the potential foe, the meaning of the rest of the unspoken sentence understood between the two by virtue of their shared combat experience.



Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Felix Whitbane Heike Eisen

 

[Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest]

As Gil caught Heike's glance, he could see the shock in her face the true concern in her eyes, he looked to see what had concerned her so and then he saw Cauldwin. He had added them in fighting the orcs, he could have easily killed him by staying the line and allowing the orc to explode, Gil was standing right next to the man when it all happened. Gil had assumed him destroyed as he could not find him after. This undead was stubborn, that was for sure. He took in the shape of him, he had been taller before his height rivaled that of his own last they met in combat. This was the second undead that had intrigued him, the first being one called Sir a kind soul trapped in undeath.

He moved to the left of Dal and then pulled from a disk of light to his left a towering shield of light, Cauldwin would remember this shield from their previous encounter, how when used in defense it could melt steel and when used in offense it rivaled steels hardness. He did not draw a weapon yet, he dug into his familiar defensive stance and waited to see what would unfold, what words the lawbringer you'd speak and then the scales of judgement would be weighed.

Gil hoped this would not escalate as there was more fighting to do, and if he was to be a last stand he would need as much magic, faith, and stamina as he could save for the upcoming battle.

Heike Eisen Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Dal Felix Whitbane

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

He was exhausted, both from the effort of marching and the arcane cost of providing healing to needed it, once he had concluded his communication with Itra. Triage had been necessary, as he could only mend the injuries of a fraction of those in need. Though his Blessing of Health was powerful in effect, it was lacking in ability to be rationed, and remained a rather inefficient solution. Continued aid was ceartainly no strength of the incantation, but if the Marines wished for more they gave no sign of it. When Kiros was clearly too exhausted to continue, they did not plead for further aid as those in Dornoch had. Rather, they accepted the circumstances and did not seem keen harass him for more. Such behaviour was not taken for granted, and truly made the task much easier.

Once they were on the march however, the aid Kiros could provide to those who remained hurt was diminished. As before, he’d need to preserve arcane energy to protect and bolster the troops should another attack be suffered. Further, the wounded would be able to receive aid once they reached their destination of the Ixchel stone – to ensure that they did thus became priority.

Even if he could not follow them as he so desired.

Neither pious nor heroic did he feel in his god-given task; none knew the true reason he had agreed to remain behind. It was not bravery that bid such a response from him, but fear of damnation. The Pit was a fate his misdeeds rendered him doubtless deserving of. If he were to die here under the charge of Itra, he would at least not be sent there. Nor would he receive any sort of afterlife at all – yet that meagre agreement had been enough for unwilling fulfillment of Itra's demand.

And none knew. They surely thought him valiant for it. He saw Heike wearing a look of approval, and further he saw her smile. Neither She nor Sardrun knew him not as the heretic and murderer he knew himself as. Were they to know the truth, such high opinion would surely shift. He couldn't imagine what such a noble knight would make of a condemned outlaw. He was only sure that she would rightly detest him for it.

* * *
​

As they reached the fort, his legs were pained and his shins sorely ached. Not that he was physically unfit; he was quite used to making long journeys by foot – but never for such distance and at such pace as the dwarven Marines had. Without the activity of healing keeping him busy, he spent the majority of his time close to Sardrun; both for the purpose of protection, and for what comfort and consolation he could provide for the poor young boy. While Kiros cursed his situation, Sardrun had been through far worse, and unlike Kiros, Sardrun was innocent. A child so young should not have to travel through such conditions and in such fear, but the orcs had made that necessary.

Soon though, he would be safe and sound, yet Kiros would have to remain.

"You'll be right after me...won't you?" Sardrun asked him, causing Kiros to react with a worried pause as mind raced to find the words to answer the question. Though he had anticipated the need for them, he still did not yet know what to say. Only that it would take some form of 'no'; before his answer could even leave his lips, a regretful expression would forecast it would not be an affirmation. Predisposed to do whatever it took to bring the boy comfort, it was crushing to know he’d need to deny Sardrun his request. Much as he wished to follow the boy back to Belgrath as the Major had allowed, his fear of The Pit remained worse. Marginally, for he did consider abandoning Itra and hopes for redemption in order to follow him.

But Kiros could not.

“Not right after, Sardrun.” He replied, crouching down before the much smaller boy. Captain Grunni and Major Angrumm had given clearance to follow suit; Sardrun doubtless knew and deserved explanation for why Kiros could not heed the request. He did not want to lie, but could not deliver truth. It could not make much sense to the boy.

“To see you delivered to safety is a tremendous relief and I wish I could follow – but I must do more here.” Kiros added; the former statement was true heartily, and the latter technically. As he spoke, he could see the disappointment etched on Sardrun's face, as Sardrun surely wished to see Kiros safe as well.

“Others remain that I must help protect.” It was the best explanation he could settle on. Neither misleading, nor revealing of the true cause behind the reason he had to deny Sardrun's plea.

“But after that, gods willing, I shall make headway to Belgrath and seek your audience immediately. Such that you might too see me safe.” He concluded, not that it brought much relief to the boy. How could it – beyond the safety of Belgrath’s walls, he'd only fret for Kiros' return. He'd stopped short of making outright promise. He doubted he was as likely to survive the ordeal as his statement implied, but he could not tell Sardrun such a thing so bluntly.

“I'll leave this in your posession for safekeeping, that you'll know I must return.” Kiros unfastened the long red tabard tied to the front of his mantle, bundling the gold-trimmed length of cloth in hand before offering it to Sardrun. A memento valueless in all ways but sentimental. Perhaps it might assure the boy of his eventual return. At the very least, it would leave Sardrun with something to remember him by were he to perish before he could.

"Sardrun, go. Now," Heike said.

“By the sound of it, it's time Sardrun.” Kiros remarked, without awareness of what had caused the urgency in Heike's tone. But once he looked at her and saw the concern on her face, he rose to his feet with eyes following her gaze in search of threat to the boy. In the distance, he saw Cauldwin making approach. She had clearly met him before too; but was far more disturbed by the experience than Kiros had been. Which isn't to say Kiros placed must trust in the rusted giant; he knew not why Cauldwin was here, nor what he might do. If anything, Heike's concerns were considered apt.

“The need is dire; you must depart, and you must do so now. Farewell; and by spirit, I shall not betray my words.” Kiros added, his tone tinged with the sense of urgency that Heike's held. With one final look at Sardrun, he returned his focus to Cauldwin before turning to Heike with inquiry.

“You know of him as well?”

Felix Whitbane Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Tarathrieal Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Heike Eisen Dal Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest

 

[Savan Shade]

Savan walked the battlefield, he continued to look among the corpses of those who had been risen and those who had not. He saw wounds of holy magic that cut through the ground and through corpses.
He searched for the Chieftain, the so called Champion, the killer of heroes. He looked to the cliff walls and saw the cracks that had been caused by some real impact, he made his way to it and there he found it, the corpse of the chief cut in two. Their strongest. Savan let out a disgusted hmph.

A thunderous deep dark voice filled with malice broke the silence. “ No matter how strong they think they are, they are all still bound to the same mortal coil.” Next to Savan stood a tall figure made of shadow, it stood twelve feet and about its waist it wore a belt of spines and skulls.

“In the end there is only death” Savan replied to the demon. Savan turned to the pile of corpses behind him and the blood began to rise from the battlefield and it joined the corpses, the flesh seemed to liquidate and reform bones cracked and shifted to new form, he then turned to the body of the champion. The mass of bone flesh and blood swirled his eyes glowed with what looked like eerie green flames. The mass moved to the champion now pulling the two halves of the body together. Once the two halves had bonded they were sealed by bone, the bone was compressed and hardened now like a layer of armor between the two halves.”and the dead shall inherit Arethil.”

Savan walked now to the newly combined corpse. He pulled from his person a black crystal with a purple hue. He grabbed it as one might grab a quill, he walked to the corpse and he placed the jagged end of the crystal to the flesh of the champion. The crystal began to glow green from within, as he carved runes into the flesh of the orc the crystal screamed with what sounded like hundreds upon hundreds of pained tortured voices. This went on for some time as he meticulously carved and intricate pattern or runes into the flesh of the fallen champion. Once he had finished Savan had taken a step back to contemplate his work placing a hand on his chin. He turned again to the corpses and crafted two more strong arms binding them to the orc. He then worked to raise the champion.

The two linches continued to float about the battlefield raising more and more dead to add to the already overwhelming numbers of the existing army of the dead. An army that continued to march on towards the portal stone. As he rose the newly formed four armed champion he continued to move across the battlefield filling The Bloodwell before pausing at a pool of dark tar like blood. How interesting. He lifted the blood manipulating it. And flung it across corpses, the blood was strong and unnatural. It would be a useful tool to draw upon, all of its untapped power would be put to use now.

Kiros Rahnel Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Heike Eisen Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Felix Whitbane Dal

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Evening gave way to night, with the clouds covering the stars and the bitter storm raining hard against the the ground. Eyes were on Cauldwin now, his unnatural appearance was no longer something that could be overlooked. It was abundantly clear to any he was not a normal living creature, even hobbled and specter-like as he was, he held a naturally imposing appearance above the numbers of the marines and even the mercenaries to a lesser extent. He looked down at them and he could feel their anxiety.

There was no hiding it now. They could see through his mask of unnatural vigor and into the dark harbinger he was, the question was: did any dare to demand his death? It appeared not, perhaps do to Dwarvish honor or maybe terror. How could they turn axes on one who fought so hard for their cause, let alone manage to cut them down? The ash painted warrior looked upwards at the group who stood on the hillside inside the camp, looking down at him.

Kiros... why was he here? He thought the priests goddess, Ishra was it, was more concerned about her and securing her own playthings than aiding others in an hour of need. Gil, his was not one that needed much explaining, a warrior-paladin with a similar resolve to Cauldwin. He sought to put down the undead where ever they appeared in the name of his 'All-Father'. He was looking at him and channeling another one of his miracles, doubtless he would try to smite him again. Though these two were often at odds with him, he couldn't deny he admired their will.

There where others that stood with them he didn't recognize, but there was one he definitely did though she was less hungry looking than when he had seen her last. "Heike...", his steps began to march in their direction. He stepped out of the light of torch and brazier only allowing his green glowing eye to be visible as it remained glued on Heike. As he approached he became illuminated by another brazier allowing an excellent view of his ghastly broken form: his severed left forearm, the white chalky ash that caked his armor, the various rends in the plates, the dark holes that housed his eyes, and the red blood that poured down his breastplate and part of his helm.

They would be able to see the stiffness in his legs and the pronounced limp in his left step. And the great tribal maul that was hefted over his shoulder. To the trained eye, the exertion and strain could be seen in his stance, making it clear his imposing and tireless march was not so, but only to the trained eye. Lightning again cracked in the sky, as he walked again in the dark. Revealing his form again, in the greyish green light. Something was wrong with the weather. It crashed again, illuminating the ever closing warrior. Just for a moment, perhaps it was a trick of the light or the fatigue of battle and looming dread, but it seemed something else approached them. In that brief moment in the green light, one could swear it was not the barely standing husk of a berserker in ash caked armor but an indominable champion cased in black iron. Long clawed fingers on his left hand...

Then as he reentered the light of the torch and braziers the group stood around, the husk was once again standing before them. His fingers lifted and set on the shaft of the maul as he seemed to gaze through Heike. "Heike... you seem do to be doing well." He seemed to sniff the air, searching for something, he looked at Kiros. He grinned behind his helm, "Kiros! We have to stop meeting under such circumstances."
Then he took a look at Gil, "Ah, Paladin Gil, I see that nose has healed well since we last met. Told ya you should wear a helmet..." He said as he tapped his vissageless helm with what remained of his dismembered appendage.

His gaze returned to Hieke, his aloof tone began to slip with a more bestial growl underpinning his words, "Hmm... do they know what your are... or were... all the wrong you've done... and here you are. Playing the hero. Like you've done no ill." There was something else to his words here, as if his attention was divided, like something was whispering to him. Whispering something he didn't like...

*************************************
​

As the black tar was flung on to corpses, Savan, as attuned to blood magic as he was, may have noticed something off. This potent blood if he could recognize it, was utterly permeated with the void, something akin to the essence of shadowmancy yet possessing a strange malignant will of its own. Some other power stirred in the blood and with the storm. The blood possesses powerful necromantic and alchemical properties, however it did not seem to act on his will. Rather in accordance with it...

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas​

Kiros Rahnel​

Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest​

Tarathrieal​

Dal​

Heike Eisen​

Savan Shade​

Felix Whitbane​

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

To the others, perhaps, Cauldwin's approach appeared menacing. How they grasped for arms told him so, at least. Erën however, was not so concerned. Having walked this world over six hundred years had certainly trained his eye, and his blood gifted him that sight in the night. With clarity he saw that this Iron Giant was maimed from the previous battle, and though this was so he was indeed quite imposing still, in more ways than one. Erën saw it, as he was sure the others must have. The shadow that appeared in the plate's place, the blackness of the spirit who approached them.

Crossed arms dropped.

"Hmm... do they know what your are... or were... all the wrong you've done... and here you are. Playing the hero. Like you've done no ill."
​

It was rare for Erën to intervene in such things, but in this case he had a particular stake in the matter. He did not know how any of the others might react to what Cauldwin most certainly knew of Heike, nor did he have much care to know unless he must. He would prefer there to be no hinderences in dealing with this siege, and he would much rather Heike make it out alive.

She had answers to some very important questions.

He stepped forward, placing himself in between, and steeled eyes met Cauldwin's illuminated gaze.

"This is hardly the time," there was more than a hint of irritation carried in the strength of his voice, for Erën knew, or at least he was quite certain he did.

He had seen much of this world in his time.

"Our truths can all be suffered later, for now we have something far more immediate to suffer."

Erën's eyes stayed true, though it was less in challenge than in something else. Perhaps Cauldwin would look through as one with a warrior's spirit and see Erën's plea for silence, at least for now.

But even still, if it all did need to come to light now, then he could - hopefully - ask her now. The better path was beyond him, as though he could see past the misdeeds of one cursed to do them - at least someone who also repented of them, as Heike quite certainly had - he was wary of the others, of what they might believe and do. Indeed, even he could admit it was hard to believe, he'd never heard of it ever before... But Erën needed to believe.

She is actually changed... right?...

...I can change her too, right?
​

---

Heike Eisen | Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest | Tarathrieal
Dal | Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr | Kiros Rahnel
Felix Whitbane​

 

[Itra]

By mortal indolence!

The War-Father was not one She wished to encounter. How often did He speak Her name and make comparison to Her, without Her priest present to enable eavesdropping of it? And what of His purpose in guiding Cauldwin to this wretched place? Perhaps She was being followed? Either that, or Her own priest had sought Him out to spite Her! She wouldn't put it past him, having so recently taken it upon himself to goad Her assistance against the orcs of Farreach. In doing that, he'd demonstrated ignorance of his place in matters. He was the mortal; it is She who directs him, and not the other way around.

She would have to teach him. He would have to learn.

And to think – all this trouble had been for the sake of one who hadn’t even enough years to serve any valuable purpose. Yet Kiros had rescued him with devotion and deluded heroism. Arethil held plenty such children in peril, and all of them were of greater distance from the War-Father than this one! Were that lout to do good, it would have been far better to do so anywhere else.

He further thought he could make his prompt escape once he’d attained his goal. That She would simply react with yet another smiting, leaving him free to repeat the action he was developing pattern of. A fool he might be, but She was not! She had punished his prior indolence with such means, and he had already brought Her into another unwilling situation out of the same misguided notion of valor.

So let him have it. As he’d acted in pursuit of it for himself, so it was fitting that he do so now for Her. That he’d suffer for it was all the better.

Allow him his fill of bravery and battle that he might grow sick of it. She’d not allow the War-Father and his obedient lapdog to steal the glory so foolishly left on the table! Though it would be better were Kiros a touch more like that, and actually did as was desired. She’d a bit of work to do towards that end. He’d certainly not like it, but he didn’t have to.

Not that She knew what glory that might be, but the War-Father’s presence implied that He did. And She’d do what Her priest would not: pay attention and learn. There must be more to this place than a scared young dwarf that the divine had no reason to care about. Cauldwin was acting under His guidance, and the boy was not his concern. Under Her watchful eye however, She’d be able to determine whatever it was He was doing here soon enough.

And then She would outdo Him. Why, when Arethil was in danger He’d done nothing, while She had boldly sent Her lone priest to heed Seneschal’s call. Having had to suffer the slight made against Her, She wasn’t about to leave until She’d demonstrated Her own superiority. The War-Father too, ought learn. She had already taught Him that She was no longer as helpless as She’d seemed upon their first meeting. She was known now. That Her actions had given mortals awareness of Her had proven irritating, but that the divines smiled on it seemed a safe-guard against unprovoked hostility. It was one matter for Him to engage in conflict with a goddess of no note; it was quite another to do so against one with purpose as She now held. Taking ward of Avellini had proven beneficial beyond the example made from him and satisfaction of seeing him suffer evermore.

Yet as She waited, She sensed something, and it was foul. Even more so than the War-Father – perhaps this had to do with why He was here. Through the Heka, She could sense an aura of undeath, and for Her to do so meant that the source must be powerful. Scrying it would reveal more: a demon, his own undead charge, and a powerful artifact, drawing upon blood. Along with another puddle of blood, a thick ichor that had been spilled from that walking corpse the War-Father deemed fit as His chosen. Blood magic was woven by Savan Shade, and through those incantations he was putting the potential personal resource to test – a resource that was not his with which to meddle! Whatever his plans were, that unsightly bloodstain was the work of the War-Father and was not for mortal hands to tinker with. Not that Itra would consider Him sacred; but He was a god and still divine, while Savan was not.

Perhaps this was what He was seeking after all. The War-Father’s abhorrence of the undead was almost a quality shared with Her. Not that She cared for such abominations – both truly despised them. Yet He made exception for his own undead charge. He may think Her as fickle, but at least Her priest was among the living.

Best not to tell Kiros now though, not while he could still make a run for the portal stone and flee in craven panic. He’d done that before in the spine upon Her first meeting with Him, and She’d not have him do so again. Rather, She’d wisely wait until he had no choice but stay where he was before revealing the situation to him. All necessary in order to make absolutely sure that he would remain and fight alongside the War-Father’s chosen.

Under no circumstances would She squander this given opportunity to teach both of them humility.

Felix Whitbane Heike Eisen Dal Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Tarathrieal Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Heike Eisen]

Sardrun held the tabard gifted to him by Kiros, and held it closely. The hold from which Sardrun hailed was not like Belgrath. It was more isolated, and far more insular. Only dwarves had lived there, and there were many among them who preferred it that way, and who thumbed their noses at the Steelborn clan for their views.

This whole ordeal was the first time Sardrun had ever seen orcs, or elves, or humans. The orcs frightened him, but it wasn't like the other clans said: the one with them, whose name was Dal, fought for good. He was not a savage like the other clans would say. The elves named Erën and Gil were tall. How could someone even be that tall? But they fought for good. They were not haughty like the other clans would say.

And the humans were brave. They were not as tough as the dwarves, nor as strong as the orcs, nor as agile as the elves, but Heike and Kiros were both incredibly brave. And they were nice. Father himself would have said they were honorable.

The outside world was a terrifying place to Sardrun, but...people like Dal, Erën, Gil, Heike, and Kiros made it better. Just by living and being who they were, they made the world a better place.

And, to Sardrun, none did this more so than the human priest, Kiros. He understood that he had to stay, that a lot of dwarves needed to stay as well, and he reluctantly accepted that, even if it pained his heart.

Sardrun, through his fear and his worry, stood straight and clutched the tabard in one hand and saluted in the manner he had seen done by the Marines, saying, "Y-You bring honor to your clan, Kiros," innocently unaware that humans did not follow the same familial structure as dwarves.

And then a Marine prompted him along, and Sardrun hurried toward the Portal Stone at the center of the fort.

* * * * *​

It was heartening to Heike to know that she was not alone. Not only to be surrounded by the many dwarves with which she had served during this mission, but with stalwart friends and comrades-in-arms the likes of Dal, Gil, Kiros, and Erën. Perhaps the most crushing aspect of all during her affliction was the utter loneliness, the casting out from greater society, the banishment from basking in the light of such esteemed company. Now more than ever her heart could swell with joy, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with men and dwarves of venerable character and unquestioned valor, having once known the darkness and void that had come with its loss.

You know of him as well?

"Yes, I do. Enough to know that he is a danger to any and all around him," she replied.

And what came hobbling toward them, though formidable in stature, was a disgraceful and unsightly creature. Almost pitiable, if he had not ushered in his present condition upon himself. Here it was plain to see that their positions in the world had each changed dramatically, and to this Heike attributed the stark difference to the virtues she upheld and which Cauldwin sorely lacked. For proof one need only look at her--shed of her affliction, championing the cause of her people, and having risen above the horrors of her circumstances--and then look at him, seeing upon the eye's initial gracing that his outward appearance had come to match his inward soul: monstrous, his humanity consumed by a rage which gleefully masqueraded as moral.

Then Cauldwin spoke.

And Heike knew what she had to do. She knew it was coming: Erën had been the herald, Cauldwin the inevitable message. She needed to get ahead of it, take it upon herself at last to speak unbidden by the right questions, and lay bare her secret. Her shame, her embarrassment, her fears, all of it needed to come from her mouth, and none other. She had to be the one to own it. Erën, bless him, had stepped between herself and Cauldwin, said that now was not the time. Yet it would be Heike who would have to reject his plea for silence. There was no more proper a time than now, with the dark specter of death looming overhead.

"I am sworn to speak no falsehood. This Oath I have upheld, and shall do so now."

One last burst of gripping pain, whose name was reticence, alighting in her chest. She closed her eyes. Suppressed it. Opened her eyes and spoke.

"I was once a vampire."

And at this she immediately looked to Dal, her expression laden with sorrow and apology. Kiros and Gil she had but met on this mission into the Blightlands only, but Dal she had known longer. Dal, who had trusted her enough to bare his own secret to her, removing his helmet and displaying clear to see his half-orcish heritage, and yet she lacked the resolve to do the same for him until now. In this moment, the greatest shame of all was not the secret she had admitted, but that she lacked the strength he possessed with his forthrightness. It was only right for her to aspire to be more like Dal, to better herself through his noble example.

She continued, "I drank the blood of the innocent when I could find none of the guilty. And though I did not kill, and though I did this to persevere and keep the hope for my home of Reikhurst alive, it was still an abhorrent act. I strive to restore Reikhurst from ruin such that I might be judged by a trial of my peers for my actions and my failures, and be sentenced to my rightful punishment."

Her attention turned back to Cauldwin, her hand tensing on the hilt of her sheathed weapon. "Which I shall not allow a paranoid craven such as you to threaten. You turned to me when you had no other, I received your plea with charity and the benefit of the doubt, and then you lashed out against me with a false accusation the moment we were imperiled."

And at last, with furrowed brow, she said darkly, "Mayhap you are the murderer those watchmen believed you to be, and what happened to you is nothing short of deserved."

The dwarven Marines and soldiers in the immediate vicinity around the adventurers, around Cauldwin, were all now keenly aware of the confrontation. They had stopped what they were doing. Hands touched weapons, apprehensive eyes shifted between the giant (who'd brought one of their own back) and the armored woman (who had led the adventurer auxiliaries). The last thing the dwarves would suffer was a fight within their own walls, and they would banish the lot of these adventurers from the fort if the call from Captain Grunni or Major Angrumm demanded it.

* * * * *​

Warlord Krashogg commanded the war host on the other side of the hills from the Ixchel North Fort. There was a sea of tents, a great army numbering in the thousands assembled from nearly every corner of the Blightlands. Among it were beasts of war from the Ixchel Wilds, elite heavy infantry, Purgers, dark shamans, fire giants, and more. Ungbarroud's fall at the hands of the Arragoth brought a chance for glory to the Warlord, and he would seize it. After crushing the puny resistance at the Stone, he could then lead a campaign of retribution, and perhaps do what the bastard Gerra failed to do: conquering hated Belgrath itself. Yes...all of Molthal would know Krashogg's name.

And, just then, a messenger came sprinting through the encampment toward him. Urgently.

Dal Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Dal]

Heike's look of apology had been received without sign that Dal was affected by it. His hand remained on his sword. His feet ready to act. Dal's armour offered up the only sound from the soldier, the pitter patter of forceful rain on reliable steel was his only immediate reply to what had just played out.

He blinked a few times, hardened his vision, jutted his jaw out instinctively, his teeth bared to no-one from underneath his helmet, his composure failing him from the rising boiling blood within him. His thoughts pounded.

This isn't the time to question the command chain, Dal cursed inwardly, his hatred of poor soldiering like a hot brand against his temple at what he saw. If anything, it was time to pledge further loyalty, Dal thought quickly. This was an act of sabotage. To weaken the command chain at such a critical moment was worthy of being flogged in the mercenary companies he had served in. If not execution.

Dal's thoughts were coloured by the infuriation of such a display of insubordination from this undead figure. Such an act of subversion from this armoured figure, Dal thought, he would have growled them had he given voice to his thoughts, is this one an agent of the undead who seeks to bring us down from within? And Heike being forced to show weakness before the critical moment of leadership. This was folly!

Dal had not seen Cauldwin's effort in his more humanoid form against the orcs, nor that he had brought in injured dwarves now. Dal did not know of Cauldwin's transformation to the wolf, to assist the dwarven force, but instead saw such a figure on the battlefield as a potential threat that had been brought down before his hand had been forced into facing such a thing. Even if Dal had known that this one had allegiance to the dwarven cause then, it would pale in comparison to his actions now. To Dal in this critical moment before the combat would spill out, this one was just a dissident who weakened the foundations of a good war effort.

And that was unforgivable.

Dal knew with all his being that something must be done now.

He stepped forward after Heike had spoken, indignation in his heart, fury upon his brow, hatred in his eyes for such a self indulgent display from this undead figure, Dal's left hand moving away from his sword and to his back to reach for another weapon upon his back. His helmet concealed his rage, yet his voice carried it all.

“Soldier!” Dal issued at intense authoritative volume worthy of any military command at Cauldwin. Fear was in no place in Dal's heart. Only a desire to quash the dissident's sway here. Dal walked passed Heike without giving her a glance. His eyes were locked on Cauldwin. His left hand produced a crossbow, already loaded, already primed to take the shot.

He raised it up against Cauldwin, Dal some feet away.

“Yeah you! Your self important, self moralising and traitorous words at such a critical point are a black stain against your name! Speaking against a knight like you're doing good. You know what you are? You're a fucking rabble rouser. A guttersnipe! Someone who can't wait for the assigned enemy to appear so you pursue your own vendetta against authority! I've seen it before during my time as a soldier, yet never so hypocritical a display!”

Dal gave out a guttural bray of contempt and pointed the crossbow with more menace.

“Orcs will be upon us soon and you want to hunt someone who drank blood from time to time? Well if that's the way it is, fight me you fuck! I used to drink the blood of my enemies when I served with orc forces. Wonderful little ritual to it and all! I kinda miss it!” Dal roared derisively, his patience completely spent.

If that's what it takes to show solidarity around here, Dal thought in his rage, so be it.

He continued with hate in his heart and contempt upon his lips. The voice of his own sergeants across his career sounded out through his voice. Harsh. Unyielding. Self assured. And utterly remorseless in judgement.

“Are you here to do the work of the enemy? Because that's all I hear from you right now! Just one more undead that wants to corrupt our efforts to drive back the enemy! Either you're with us against the orcs, the undead, and whatever else is soon to attack, or you're against us, so make it clear you're here to help dwarves or I'll put you down my fucking self, you back talking, undisciplined, subordinate excuse for a soldier! Get back to your duty to the cause instead of whatever the fuck this display of sanctimonious nonsense is. You're a disgrace to good order, disciplined soldiers, the valor of the brave, the mettle of iron wills and the defenders of the weak by speaking in such an unworthy fashion towards the command chain around here! You talk about playing the hero, you're playing the part of the disrespectful, backstabbing rabble that shouldn't be part of a military force to begin with! To speak in such a corrosive way to our unity before the critical moment of war. We stand with Heike! And questioning her right now is an act of subordination! So get back into line, shut the fuck up about your gripes, face the actual enemy like a good soldier, or be labelled as foe!”

Dal's eyes did not waver from Cauldwin. His finger hovered over the trigger. No thought as to if putting him down was even possible. Just the desire to quash the dissent, and restore order to the auxiliaries as a whole. Someone had to act as Heike's second in command here, and Dal shouldered that responsibility without question.

((EDIT: Changed 'bore up (the crossbow) against Cauldwin' was not meant to mean 'point blank pointed'. Changed to be some distance. As would make sense for someone pointing a ranged weapon.))
Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Heike Eisen

 

[Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest]

Gil sighed as the two parties began bickering among one another, why did the child races always reduce themselves to yelling and have such a quickness to resort to violence, their lives were short enough already.

Gil shifted his stance placing himself between Dal and Cauldwin with Cauldwin at his back. "I hold no gruge against a vampire or not who has taken no life. I do however have my own disagreements with the undead, however, I feel that if he wished to do us harm he could have easily driven the orc that exploded into our ranks. I was standing right next to him holding the line when it happened, and though I feel strongly that this undeads spark should be released and sent to The All Father, this is neither the time nor the place."

Gil turned now to Cauldwin "It is true what they say, another war party gathers. This is not the time for us to have our disagreements, we need to save our energy and efforts for what is to come, now will you aid us or not!"

Gil readied himself for the awnser Cauldwin might give. If he was to be a problem to the survival of the boy and the rest of his companions, he would need to act swiftly to dispatch or disable Cauldwin. In his former state he was at to go toe to toe with Gil often keeping him on the defensive. Now in his hobbled state he would not be as fast as he once was which would leave him open.

The scales of judgement were waiting one final piece too be weighed.

Dal Heike Eisen Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Kiros Rahnel Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Savan Shade]

Savan looked upon the massive, abomination he had raised, he smirked to himself. Another Champion added to his collection. He had other champions, defeated heroes that he had raised and enhanced. To lose to Savan was to enter his service as an undead a trophy for his ever growing collection. He looked back to the undead army, it consisted of may different races, dwarves, men, Elves, giants, centaurs. Minotaur, and many many more. All different in life, squabbling bickering over dead earth as is one could own it. However, in death, they were all the same. There was order, peace. No one shouted, no one cried, none knew fear or pain. They just marched and marched towards a common goal, united under the veil of the inevitable.

Savan now turned his attention to the black unholy blood permeated with dark power. Savan looked over his shoulder speaking to some unseen force. "And if I do?" Savan spoke.

He stood there for a moment contemplating he held he hand behind his back head tilted down to the black pool.

"Very interesting" Savan said breaking the long silence "Then it seems we want the same, let it be then"

Savan reached out to the tar like blood, it began to rise from the pit in which held it, it began to swirl around, and like a sun it sent out coronal elections in an attempt to splash out once again onto the battlefield to re mix with the earth, to escape. Savan closed his eyes and the blood began to suck into The Bloodwell. Savans face twisted with agony and pain as the blood in side the gem all began to become trained by the black blood. The color of the red gem turned black as all of the blood became like the black tar that tainted it. Black veins snaked from the gem and they moved up his body through his neck. The black veins grew out wildly below his flesh as it moved towards his brain. His teeth bared as his face twisted with pain and agony, yet he made no sound. His eyes began to glow with familiar green flames. The veins spread quickly as the blood from The Bloodwell moved through his body.

So much power, so many possibilities. As the blood finally settled on his body something curious happened. The army of feral dead began to not simply march as the undead would. They stood straighter now as if they were real living soldiers. They moved from horde to well organized and disciplined formations.

Savan smirked now with his newly found powers and his newly raised champion.
Krashogg would be waiting now cutting off the retreat as he instructed. There would be a host of fun to be had. He made his way to a skeletal horse and mounted it. They would make their way now towards the portal stone to finish this once and for all.

Dal Heike Eisen Kiros Rahnel Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Eren'thiel Xyrdithas

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Things deteriorated quickly.

This half-orc, Dal, was certainly a short tempered one, and Erën could quite easily imagine him speaking in such a way to the wrong foe some day. Though he of course certainly did not hope this for him, he'd seen the sort of thing before, and perhaps today he would see it again. This iron soldier had already proven simply by his being here now that he was hardly one to be so lightly trifled with, even in this seemingly lessened state. But then again, he'd also already proven his ability to change shape, and who among knew to what extent that power reached? This was hardly the time to ask.

Arms at his sides.

He didn't reach for his swords. Not yet. He could be quick.

A tightness gripped the air, unsettling and unseen. And then a cool gust swept through, and from it a feeling crept over him, and he could only assume that the others did not perceive it has he did. But from it he could feel that something was amiss beyond what they had been told, for he knew it was the touch of dark magics and the spread of their curses that he felt. It always leaves scars, wherever it is used, and Arethil always weeps for its sin.

In his peripheral he saw Gil, with his back turned to Cauldwin, set between Dal and he. In this moment, he did not think it wise to turn one's back. A glance back to Kiros, and Heike. There had been scorn on her tongue, yet he saw that her sword was not yet freed. She did not wish to fight, or at least that's what he assumed.

His eyes turned ahead again, as quickly as they'd turned back. Now it seemed then that this would all be in Cauldwin's hands, how the next few moments were going to be. But Erën was almost curious, because the essence of what he felt from afar, bore a strikingly similar frequency to none other than the one set before him now. But also because of this, placed before his curiosity was his focus.

His muscles tensed, and then relaxed. He could be quick.

---

Heike Eisen | Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest |
Dal | Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr | Kiros Rahnel
Felix Whitbane​

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"Y-You bring honor to your clan, Kiros," Spoke Sardrun as a farewell in response to Kiros' words. He smiled wide at the young Sardrun and stood up in respectful stance honouring the gesture of the young boy. Yet he abstained from returning a salute himself; it was clearly an important part of the dwarves military culture. For a young boy to imitate it was innocent and endearing; if anything, it signalled the strength and sincerity with which he made his statement. Yet Kiros was an adult man, and doing so simply did not seem proper etiquette. He imagined the dwarves might scold him for it, and they were rather talented at that.

Hearing such words warmed his heart greatly; for the time being, it ushered away worry of the battle to come. The compliment from Sardrun held greater weight than any opinion ruler or deity could give. To see him safe filled Kiros with a sense of accomplishment. One he would hold onto as he watched Sardrun depart with the dwarf, gifted tabard in hand.

Itra be damned; he had done good this day!

In response to his inquiry about Cauldwin, Heike would divulge answer.

"Yes, I do. Enough to know that he is a danger to any and all around him" she replied.

Truthfully, he knew not what to make of the rusted giant. The last time Kiros had encountered him was during the adventures with the troll Tol at The Eldyr Tree. Having been given the task of avoiding an unknown deity She had warned him of, Kiros promptly failed it – he believed it was because the troll was a priest of the 'God of the Swamp'. Itra had remained absent in presence during his adventures with the two. Upon making contact with Her after the adventure's conclusion, She had smote him with a migraine of agonizing severity, and of duration that well outlasted what supply of shade he had with him to treat the pain.

Cauldwin was unsettling, to say the least. Kiros had found himself robbed of most of the first nights sleep when Cauldwin had stood watch over them. Yet the rusted giant had not shown he was hostile – they had worked together on the task. Still Kiros had some reservations. When Heike announced both that she knew him and labelled him a danger, what concerns he held were escalated. Kiros was quickly convinced of the threat Cauldwin posed, yet adopted no battle stance. He could not find it appropriate, although his staff was held upright in a manner that that he could parry if needed.

From the introduction received, such an attack seemed unlikely.

“Kiros! We have to stop meeting under such circumstances!” spoke Cauldwin. Kiros could not help but agree, as he had been on a holy quest then, as he was presently too. He so despised those; such circumstances he could do well without, indeed.

“A statement too true.” he spoke plainly. As far as Kiros was aware, Cauldwin knew little of Itra. He could not know of the aversion Kiros regarded holy quests with. Most priests would undertake divinely directed missions with joyous dedication, but all priests must serve a better deity than Her.

The next words Cauldwin spoke were directed to Heike.

"Hmm... do they know what your are... or were..." Cauldwin uttered scathing tone. Whatever matter he spoke of, Kiros knew nothing of. As Cauldwin stated she no longer held the unmentioned quality, Kiros quickly ruled out murderer.

"This is hardly the time" Countered Erën, stepping between the two and leaving Kiros to wonder what Cauldwin had meant. He looked to Heike, but remained content not to pry. He had his own secrets to keep, and he would be quite content to allow Heike hers.

Yet, making reference to a knightly oath to speak no falsehood, she would do so herself.

And the announcement was ghastly.

"I was once a vampire." Heike confessed, going into great detail about the very matter Cauldwin had threatened to unveil. He knew of no cure for vampirism; but they both spoke of her former state. Erën seemed to know as well. He remained in wonder of both how she could cure herself of such an affliction, and of how she could allow herself to even live as such an abomination long enough to do so.

He had his own sins to burden him; but those had been borne from singular mistake in an impulsive moment. For as Kiros regarded, every day of vampiric existence she allowed herself was a sin committed anew. Yet, as she further stated; she had not murdered any.

"Mayhap you are the murderer those watchmen believed you to be, and what happened to you is nothing short of deserved." Though she could not know of Kiros’ misdeeds, and while the harsh words had been clearly directed towards Cauldwin; Kiros could not help but feel the sting of such an accusation himself. Just as imagined, Heike held nothing but disdain for those guilty of very crimes he himself had regretfully committed all those years ago. Rightly as she should. He however, was beholden to no such oaths of honestly; merely oaths of unwilling obedience. He'd dare not speak of his crimes before her.

Not that doing so had made hers any easier to accept, or granted him insight to the hypocrisy of his stance. She was admirable, honourable; Kiros could rightly say he had met few he had held in such high esteem in his life. And yet, she was not noble enough to turn blade against herself upon becoming a monster. After receipt of such news, he could not help but see her in a new light; conflicted as he was, he could not yet determine the shade of it. That would have to be done later, as Dal stepped forth with his protest in vitriolic rage.

“Orcs will be upon us soon, and you wish to hunt someone who drank blood from time to time?” Roared Dal, who wasted no time in coming to the defence of Heike with the same fervour he had in battle. Kiros had his reservations about placing trust in a vampire, former or present. Yet Dal entertained no such doubt, and made vehement protest at the notion with his crossbow brandished and aimed directly at Cauldwin. Matters appeared to be escalating, and Kiros was not yet certain where he stood in regards to them.

An uncomfortable scan of his surroundings made him aware that the other dwarves had taken notice, and appeared prepared to make intervention with their weapons ready to be wielded. Were the group to be discharged from the battle, Kiros would simply fail his given holy quest without having to go through the ordeal involved in actually completing it. To leave this place willingly would be a rebuking of Her, and She would abandon him entirely. But if he did so involuntarily, all She could do was smite him again.

And so, though he looked uneasy, Kiros did absolutely nothing. As long as he could get caught up in the unfolding altercation without contributing to it, he might have a safe escape after all.

Gil'tyrnin however, would quash any such hopes and spoil the situation yet again; his mind on singular track of doing battle.

"It is true what they say, another war party gathers. This is not the time for us to have our disagreements, we need to save our energy and efforts for what is to come, now will you aid us or not!" Gil'tyrnin countered, placing himself between Dal and Cauldwin, such that the half-orc would be unable to loose his crossbow bolt without striking Gil'tyrnin instead.

No, that time was when we were honouring our war-dead, apparently.

Felix Whitbane Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Tarathrieal Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr Heike Eisen Dal Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Kiros replied to his gretting,

“A statement too true.”

That plain inflection made Cualdwin doubt the sight of him inspired the same friendly demineer in Kiros, such was current events he supposed. Still it was an attempt at having some levity in the face of horrors, it was always worth a try.

Then someone attempted to step between him and his quarry, a very bad idea, a knife ear by the looks of it (for some reason the link for Eren's character bio is borked so sorry if I can't make any interesting interaction off what can be inferred at a glance.) Cauldwin said nothing, he only looked down disdainfully on what seemed to be a foolhardy kid.

'This is hardly the time,"

He considered giving in to bloodlust but felt rather ashamed at the fact, it was doubtless this was an innocent, he had no idea what Cauldwin had been through. He had no idea the past crimes of Hieke, hell, in a similar vein as Cauldwin those many winters ago, he may believe her his friend. Even so an opportunity to judge such a horrifically guilty soul for the War-Father, and avenge himself would not likely be granted again. He would give him a few minutes to make a case or move before he got to cleaving.

"Our truths can all be suffered later, for now we have something far more immediate to suffer."

So he is aware of what she is and his currently covering for her? Aiding and abbeding a fugitive, obstructing justice, and though technically not a crime something that enrages Cauldwin quite a bit, standing in his way. He was starting to look more and more like nail. Cauldwin's fingers tapped on the shaft of the maul before his grip tightened. Then the Warfather's whispers hit his mind like rushing wave and Heike began to blather on about her virtues and how she was not to be judged, while Cauldwin listened to the War-Fathers instructions.

"I am sworn to speak no falsehood. This Oath I have upheld, and shall do so now. I was once a vampire. I drank the blood of the innocent when I could find none of the guilty. And though I did not kill, and though I did this to persevere and keep the hope for my home of Reikhurst alive, it was still an abhorrent act. I strive to restore Reikhurst from ruin such that I might be judged by a trial of my peers for my actions and my failures, and be sentenced to my rightful punishment."

Cauldwin turned the head of Warhammer down into the much and rested his hand on the end of the shaft, "A lie of omission is still a lie. Once more you admit your crimes, you feasted on the innocent, and you lie outright..." There was no sense in denying it at this point, if it wasn't already what most were thinking, it was said outright. He was undead. "...and YOU had a hand in my murder." She continued, her commentary becoming far more petulant. Striking at his honor. Thankfully since the last time he entered a dormant state, the last confrontation with the beast had resulted in it being more tame, or more disturbingly they are becoming more as one. Thus, his temper remained in check and he allowed her to hurt her case further with vitriol.

"Which I shall not allow a paranoid craven such as you to threaten. You turned to me when you had no other, I received your plea with charity and the benefit of the doubt, and then you lashed out against me with a false accusation the moment we were imperiled. Mayhap you are the murderer those watchmen believed you to be, and what happened to you is nothing short of deserved."

He shook his head and chuckled cynically, "So the crest-fallen dame who doubtless forsook every vow she ever took, who feasted on the blood of the innocent, who has doubtless turned victims as a consequence believes she in position to judge the returned form of the man she led away, double crossed, and helped murder? Make no mistake I am no murderer, but as in life I am a watchman, and Hieke Eisen you have a lot to answ-"

He would not be able to finish his tirade as some screeching orc interrupted him. He thought to himself, great! Now I have to listen to the Warfather and some pig-blood (slurr for orcs and half orcs in the Arreck slums) playing knight? No, no this disruption would not stand. He took a few steps to the right to loom over this self important merc who seemed to think saying fuck was a substitution for authority or made him sound intimidating, not like an undicplined man-child. And that was coming from a man prone to mad threats himself. (OOC: and I'm going to just gloss over the fact Dal is using info/inferences he would not have IC.)

He continued on his meaningless, disrespectful tirade and in the middle of it Caudlwin released his grip on his maul snatched the crossbow pointed at him from Dal's hands. Cualdwin spent years as a watchman dealing with belligerent warriors attempting to show a farce display of dominance, not to mention most watchman learned to use a crossbow before most other weapons in the Allirain arsenal. This in combination with his exceptional hand to hand combat skills made disarming this merc of his heavy crossbow when he was pointing it in closing distance child's play. Had he chosen a blade perhaps he could have done something to stop him.

Before either could make another move Gil stood between them,

"I hold no gruge against a vampire or not who has taken no life. I do however have my own disagreements with the undead, however, I feel that if he wished to do us harm he could have easily driven the orc that exploded into our ranks. I was standing right next to him holding the line when it happened, and though I feel strongly that this undeads spark should be released and sent to The All Father, this is neither the time nor the place."

Gil turned now to Cauldwin "It is true what they say, another war party gathers. This is not the time for us to have our disagreements, we need to save our energy and efforts for what is to come, now will you aid us or not!"

How was it that the zealous undead slayer was the one to bridge the plea for solidarity? Cauldwin would never know, but the Warfathers orders were given. This was bad. There was no way anyone who remained would survive what was coming, and it seems in his failure the odds have become even more stacked against these dwarves. There only hope was evacuation, and us much as he wanted Heike to be judged for her various crimes, unlike most undead abominations he had not lost his humanity. He can not defy his lord, but he may buy enough time for these people to escape with their lives and their souls.

Now they had accrued quite the audience, good, he would not let this amount of attention go to waste. Cauldwin raised the crossbow and then squeezed down into the wooden frame. It then splintered, buckled, then snapped in half. Falling into the muck. He raised the maul over his shoulder, tuned left on his heel and then barked an order, "THE NEXT SOLDIER TO RAISE BLADE, BOW, OR SORCERY TOWARDS ME WILL BE SAMARRILY BRUTALIZED, EXUCTED, AND HAVE THEIR CORPSE DESSECRATED! THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND ONLY WARNING!" He was now facing the very aggravated Dwarves, figures too stubborn to take a reasonable order, not stubborn enough to hold position, their weapons remained sheathed but readied. "I APOLOGIZE FOR THE SUDDEN DISPLAY AND LACK OF TRANSPARANCY, BUT IN THE THICK OF BATTLE THERE WAS NO TIME FOR INTRODUCTIONS. I AM HARBINGER, NOT OF THE ORCS BUT OF MY LORD OF ORDER. I AM CALLED LAWBRINGER, I WAS HERE INTIALLY TO AVENGE YOUR PREVIOUS FALLEN FORT AND GET YOU TIME TO SET UP YOUR NEXT. WHEN THAT WEAS BESIGED... WELL YOU SAW WHAT I DID IN AN ATTEMPT TO AID YOUR FORCES. YOU SAW MY SVALEN FORM."

It didn't take long for the soldiers to realize what he was talking about. Knowing what he could turn into many in the camp began to back away to the edges only able to stay in the north fort due to what may lay outside. Good, now there was an understanding of respectful boundaries and line of command he could continue. "IF I INTENDED HARM, I WOULD HAVE DONE SO WHEN YOU WERE UNDER SEIGE. PLANS HAVE CHANGED. YOU ARE RETREATING FROM THE BLIGHTLANDS, FOR THE HORDE OF THE DAMNED AND THE GATHERING STORM OF PIG-BLOODS TO THE NORTH MAKES IT UNLIKELY THIS POSITION WILL HOLD INDEFINITELY. I AM GOING TO ENSURE IN THE TIME GRANTED TO ME TO GIVE AS MUCH A FIGHTING CHANCE AS POSSIBLE UNTIL THE ORDERMARCH COMES TO MEET THE UNDEAD HORDE. I AM FIRST OF MANY. MY LORDS FORCE WILL IN TIME COALESS ON THIS AREA!"

Eren'thiel Xyrdithas​

Kiros Rahnel​

Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest​

Tarathrieal​

Dal​

Heike Eisen​

Savan Shade​

Felix Whitbane​

 

[Heike Eisen]

Warlord Krashogg received the messenger's missive: the necromancer Savan was on the approach. Good. Yes...very good. There were a good many orcs who feared necromancy, the undead, phantasmal spirits, all manner of such things. But Krashogg did not let superstition bind him. He was brutally practical about it. Why, necromancy squeezed some more usefulness out of the young and unproven warriors; some only made themselves useful in death. Krashogg simply relished in the efficiency of getting the most out of his warriors.

And of those among his horde who greatly feared the necromancer? They feared Krashogg more, for he was the closer threat, and neither he nor his chieftains would allow cowardice to spread amongst the ranks. Here another perk of necromancy: if there was a coward, his skull could be cleaved in to maintain the proper aggressiveness and solidarity in the rest of his fighting force, and then the coward could be raised and made to fight regardless. A truly perfect solution.

Warlord Krashogg bellowed out the command for the banners to be raised. For the ranks to be assembled. For his mighty horde to march up to the hilltops and bury it under orcish feet. Any tribe that was not here now was going to miss out on this battle. They had dragged their feet.

Time to show these puny Arragoth the true fury of the Blightlands that they had provoked.

* * * * *​

The undead giant was escorted out of the Ixchel North Fort without further incident.

Heike was relieved. Immensely so. Challenging enough was volunteering to stay and fight a battle such as the one before them, and yet another entirely when said battle was at hand and she could not completely trust everyone to her left and right.

Major Angrumm had been the one to intervene in the confrontation. And as soon as the undead giant was escorted from the fort, he looked right up to Heike and said firmly, "I expected better of you, knight."

"I--"

"Spare me whatever words you'd say," Angrumm barked out in response, not allowing for his reprimand to be interrupted. Heike felt herself naturally stiffening, straightening her body rigidly into hard military posture.

Angrumm continued, both disappointment and mild disdain lacing his tone, "Aye, defending your honor I'd presume. At this hour, of all times. And yet it was only by a few good graces that you're alive to see this battle commence." The dwarven Major tipped his head toward Erën and Gil. "You should have listened more closely to them. They had the right of it."

And Major Angrumm turned sharply and walked off, heading toward the Portal Stone at the fort's center to see the first wave off.

Heike looked down at her feet. The Major was right. Of course he was right, as were Erën and Gil, as he'd said. She should not have allowed for herself to indulge in the flames of indignation, but to have kept her bearing, holding the unity and order of everyone in the fort as the object of utmost importance. But no, she had followed a provocation with another provocation--lowly, such a reaction. Both Erën and Gil had acted as she should have acted, each in their moments more worthy of leadership than her. She had to do better. If she was to rally her people and lead them all into battle against the Slaughterns, she had to do better.

She lifted her head. Took in a breath. She said nothing more on the matter, for there was nothing more of it to be said.

Instead, she looked to Dal. The other matter. That which had troubled her for a much longer time.

"I should have been more forthcoming," Heike said, speaking on her former vampirism. She glanced to one side, seeing the dwarves on the southern ramparts gathering and some taking out spyglasses and scanning the horizon. Eyes back to Dal. "I neglected saying anything of my former vampirism for so long a time because..."

A quick flash, and all of the dwarves around the Portal Stone's small barren circle--Sardrun, the wounded--blinked away, there in one moment and gone in the next. The Stone's cooldown had begun ticking away.

"...I have yet to conquer my own shame."

Heike looked away again, her gaze by chance falling upon Kiros. And she'd a tiny moment to consider just how pure he must be. A priest in service to his god, his faith, upholding the virtues thereof. She had seen how he was with Sardrun--he was without question a good man. Clean was his conscience, she was sure. Such cleanliness could only be hers again when the rightful punishments were sentenced upon her, and after she had suffered them worthily.

Her eyes wandered vaguely upward. She grinned then, a rueful gesture. A tiny laugh, more breath than anything, as she shook her head. "Our most formidable enemies seldom come from without."

Then, at last, she clapped an armored hand to Dal's arm, looking up to him once more. "But I shall aspire to your example, Dal. I shall own all that I am, and all that I have been, knowing that through it all I have stayed true."

She smiled. Brightly. And in that moment the feeling gripped her that a new dawn could come, that she could put behind her once and for all the horror of those five afflicted years. All she had needed was what she had lacked for all that time: the company of friends.

Then came a shout from the southern ramparts of the fort,

"ORCS! ORRRRRRCS!"


Dal Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


A battle against an insurmountable force is coming.

The Portal Stone is currently inoperable.​

 

[Dal]

"But I shall aspire to your example, Dal. I shall own all that I am, and all that I have been, knowing that through it all I have stayed true."

Since when was I the shining example to a knight, Dal thought, the event strange to him and waylaying what previous thoughts he'd had, since when was I worthy of aspiration, he wondered.

Nevermind, Dal quickly thought, don't get lost in it, offer what you can in this moment. Perhaps a word of solidarity, of wisdom perhaps, damn it all, she makes such talk seem so effortless, say something correct, something...

He offered a soldierly nod of affirmation and realised that at this distance his armour did not conceal him, his eyes could be seen by Heike.

Pale green eyes that knew that this could be their final conversation if the knight didn't listen to what he had to say. The mercenary mindset to survive beyond the day remained even as noble words were delivered to him. There was no qualm in his head as to the merit of continuing this course, of his trust in the fellow warrior on the field, but there was a doubt as when she would leave the field at all for the sake of something honourable. Something inherently fatal.

Before Dal could think on the subject any further, their exchange was ensnared to a time when weapons were not being drawn and boots did not hurry to position on the rainslick ground.

“Orcs! ORRRRRCS!”

Dal's ears twitched from within his helmet at the sound, so ingrained was that particular clarion call of combat that he still, despite being decades apart from his time of being part of the orc warbands as a youth, still considered himself approaching with vicious intent against those who would make such a call. The instinct was impossible to shake, and the prospect of dealing with orcs again instead of the undead filled him with a sensation at first he had felt apprehensive of towards greenskins, yet now, embraced.

Excitement.

No.

Bloodthirst.

And yet, even as he felt this, he remained looking at Heike instead of considering what it meant to him to be bidding battle against the greenskin, instead of bringing about that action closer to reality, instead of taking position.

He reached out and gripped her for a moment with the same hold as she had given him, yet it was more stern, pressing, concerned as if she were to be snatched away. He locked eyes as best he could from beneath his armour. Already the dwarves were moving. Yet here, frozen for just a few seconds, Heike and Dal were.

He stated as a seasoned soldier instructing a comrade does at something mission critical, his voice without hint of question, but with authority that calls upon a common understanding, “We don't die here. We exit before it gets too much. No last stands. We exit.”

He let go.

He prayed to the God of Murder this would be not their last conversation.

Upon this prayer, he realised, with a grim smile, that he rather enjoyed killing with her.

Upon this thought, he immediately ripped steel from his scabbard and followed Heike's lead as motions to combat were made. The dwarven rune at the forte section of the blade gleamed as if hearing the words of their impending foe on the lips of dwarves around them. His green eyes looked upon it wickedly as he built up his will to fight, he summoned up the violence that he knew so well.

His thoughts were brutal and heavy in his temples, a tension in his brow, a menace in his eye.

Once upon a time, I would have made such sounds as them out there, and now, I will choke that sound out from the blighted as I coldly kill. But I shall kill with satisfaction.

No more speeches. No more banter. Just killing now. Just killing and surviving and fleeing. Before all this becomes overwhelmed.

“I have your back!” Dal declared to Heike as the din grew, as dwarves moved, as orcs made their own war cries in return, as the two moved into position.

This was it.



Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Heike Eisen

 

[Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest]

Gil sighed a sigh of relief as the tension of the situation subsided. There was enough to worry about without having to fight amongst themselves. He and Kiros had done enough of that already regarding their respective faiths and beliefs.

As the Portal stone hummed and the wounded were loaded and the boy was there clinging to the gift given to him by Kiros, Gil sunk to his knees and began to pray, he prayed for those around him, that Sol'Nityr would watch over them. He prayed that his light would protect the dwarves and his companions, he even prayed for Cauldwin. Though he had his own issues with the undead, he pitied him. He prayed the The All Father would use him as a conduit to protect everyone around him. The portal stone blinked and the wounded were gone, their primary objective was complete. Now as the portal stone cooled there was a second object, survive.

Gil rose slowly and he pulled his massive blade from his back and gripped it now with both hands, he would use as much physical power as possible and avoid using magic unless absolutely necessary. A seige was a long drawn out battle, not like the battle before where things happened quickly. They would need to concentrate on keeping the walls clear of ladders, keeping the gates braced, and for the love of Sol'Nityr they would need to keep the giants away from the walls.

Gil took a deep breath now, he called his mind, and though he took his stance upon the ramparts, he relaxed his posture, it was to be a grueling fight to defend the keep. This battle had already taken so much from them and the dwarves. Gil looked down along the wall at the palisades, this was good. It would help buy them time to remove ladders from the walls. It also would make it harder for the orcs to get siege machines close to the wall to unload troops. He smiled, the Arragoth were fine tactician and strategists.

Gil waited now for the fight to begin.

Dal Heike Eisen Kiros Rahnel Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

The dwarves' intervention prompted Erën's stepping aside. His efforts mattered little now, or so it seemed. Apparently there were no others who took offense to Heike's vampirism, or at least not yet. And it was even so and evident to his eyes that she was indeed changed. Erën need to know how she did it. It was the only hope he had to restore his daughter from the same ghastly fate, a fate he discovered her to be in after over a century of believing her gone. So now it was that he had a particular objective: Heike must survive. And there was something about this knight that made Erën wonder just how difficult a task that may be, but he could not quite place what.

His eyes turned to the gathering round the Portal Stone. He was afforded only a moment to cast his gaze over those assembled there, noting for certain Sandrun's presence among them. Then, in as much time as it took to blink one's eye, an iridescence coalesced around them there, which then abruptly pulled together and reached like a pillar high into the stormy skies, and then disappeared. Erën's eyes looked up, as if watching them go.

"...I have yet to conquer my own shame."​

Erën's gaze fell and wandered away, Heike's words prompting an introspection he was not exactly willing to approach. It still came, and through him a similar guilt washed over, and despair fell upon his heart. There was much that he too should one day answer for, and if he was correct in his deepest fears, then there were many crimes not yet committed he would one day answer for. This, this was what drove him. The collective severed him, but he knew now after he'd slain his kin that something was different. Something... had changed. He knew not what it was, or if even all his people had suffered so. But he did know that they would never have risen their blades against him without so much as an explanation.

Yet they had.

If whatever darkness this was had become the fate of all of the Order, of all his kind, then this and only this, could be his true cause. To undo whatever had been done, no matter the cost. And there was only one place he could truly find the answers he sought.

He needed to return to Sharyrdaes. He needed to go home.

---

"ORCS! ORRRRRRCS!"​

---

The ensuing bustle was only delayed by the time it took for the words to reach the ear. Erën looked to where the shouts came. From the south. Of course. He cast a glance this way and that, trying to ascertain his best course. His attention was drawn back to Heike.

“We don't die here. We exit before it gets too much. No last stands. We exit.”
​

Good, he thought, then perhaps we'll all make it out alive.

He cast a glance toward Gil who in Erën's opinion, given his path, was liable to remain too long, if he didn't already intend to stay indefinitely.

Well, most of us.

As for Erën, as much as it pained him, he would need to depart before the waves crashed over these walls. But before that time came, he fully intended on making sure these Blights remembered that the dwarves here, and those back in Belgrath, were not alone.

“I have your back!” Dal said to her.

"Together then," he also called out, drew his sword, and fell in.

---

Heike Eisen | Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest |
Dal | Felix Whitbane | Kiros Rahnel
​

 

[Savan Shade]

Savan continued the march now, the tight formations of undead soldiers marched now. The ranks of the undead ranged from common skeleton to well-armed dead, the cruelest part of the formation were the Dwarven undead, their very own kin slaughtered at the hold, then again on the field of battle.


He would use them in his first wave of assault, make the dwarves fight thier own dead. Psychological warfare at its finest. However Savan would not engage until the fodder had worn thin the defenses.


Savan formed a twisted smile as he thought to himself. He would allow the arrogance of the Orc Warlord, to be his own demise, the warlord knew his units would come, Krashogg was hoping to overwhelm the fort before he had even gotten there. Savan knew he was no different then any other orc, bigger yes, more brutal, yes. However his basic instinct was the same as the rest of the fodder he would throw at the heroes. He was here for glory, so predictable, just like the rest of the living filth.


Savan did not seek praise or glory, he wanted order, and as long as the living continued to destroy this world and continue to sow chaos with their greed, there would be no order.

"I didn't plan on it" Savan spoke to some unseen force. "The warlord is strong but he is prideful, it will be his downfall" He gripped the reins of his undead steed and pulled back, just before the path to the fort there was a ridge, Savan stopped just short of the ridge. This would conceal the massive undead army that stood just out of sight. His eyes rolled back into his head and his eyes went black now. Above a lone crow flew, Savan could see through its eyes as if they were his own. He saw as the orc and the heroes prepared for battle and he would watch to see how Krashogg would engage and then when there was a glimmer of hope, he would crush it.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Gil'Tyrnin made prayer, and while Kiros braced himself for further provocation the elven paladin's words were far from as grating as before. If that implied Gil'Tyrnin wished for no further friction, such was a respectable relief. They'd no need for that given what lay ahead, and he'd no need to like him to fight alongside him.

While Gil’Tyrnin’s attempt to quell matters had been unsuccessful, such a result ultimately brought no relief of ejection; The altercation concluded with only Cauldwin hauled away. Kiros watched but spoke nothing, and ever remained lacking awareness that this had been the War-Father’s herald before him. Though he was not the one to make the revelation known, he had arrived to justly warn them of Heike's vampiric nature. She may have volunteered the information herself, but only because both the situation made keeping such secrets untenable, and her knightly oath mandated revelation.

Kiros looked to the others, none of whom appeared to express even slight disdain of Heike’s mentioned past. The only one to express any ire whatsoever was Major Angruum, who took no issue with Heike’s vampirism; only the manner in which she had just conducted herself. Kiros remained hesitant to raise an issue with her, out of concern that doing so might cause issue with the others. Which itself might cause ejection from the battle to come. As much as such an outcome would please him, any knowing action towards making it so would leave him liable for it. Itra would be angered regardless of the reason for failure, but such wilful failure could only end in the very damnation he sought to avoid.

Doubtless it was best to hold his tongue. The others stood ready for battle out of bravery and valiance, but fear was the cause for Kiros to do so. He had done away with any notion of optimism once She had announced Her presence. That Sardrun’s rescue had been successful was truly a good fortune, given that She was now here. Yet he remained without a given task, and he imagined Itra merely wished him to suffer. Such would be a fitting motive, and one She had clearly and repeatedly shown as in Her nature. Her mandated holy quest had been borne out of desire to see him regret his part in saving the boy, and to that end it was doubtless She could only fail.

Gaze shifted to Heike, with hers turned skyward in a strange grin.He knew not what to make of her tale, and would’ve given her gesture no mind were it not for it. Were she thinking that her undead existence had been an affront to the heavens, he’d only agree. Five years! He had suffered thrice as many as Itra’s unwilling prophet, and remained unsure of what might bring him the redemption he long sought. There was certainly no incantation nor quaffed potion that could do so. Yet she’d been restored and made whole again, seeing it fit to further risk the life she’d fought to re-obtain.

Coercion had caused his presence. Should he be slain here, death would not be followed by the comforts of the Astral Valley. If solace in heavenly reward brought her comfort in battle, she’d shown no sign of it. He knew of no god she worshipped; she spoke of none. Yet she still strode into battle willingly, unbound by fear of death. Perhaps the ordeal of undeath and her subsequent restoration had touched her mind with madness.If he were to carry that assumption forward, he would clearly be alone in doing so. As he looked about, he could only find evidence against it. The dwarves prepared defences with urgent devotion, ready and willing to die for their cause. The others had all agreed to stay; even if Dal remained wisely apprehensive about sticking around for too long. Only Kiros had wished for an immediate departure, and he had kept such desire known to only himself; he seemed alone in his apprehension. The others needed no fear of the divine to be convinced to stay and do battle. Heike surely did not.

Absent religion, perhaps it was oath to valor and honour that spurred her attitude. She held purpose, while he doubted his own. He knew not what The Crook had been, nor why he had to save it, nor was he sure if he had truly managed to do so. Neither did he know of his purpose here beyond Sardrun’s safekeeping. The knight before him was what she wanted to be; and unlike him, she’d managed to obtain her reward.

From monster to heroine.

He couldn’t deny he too was a monster – even if such a quality was figurative rather than literal. There was further little doubt that she'd agree. Even if he were to obtain holy redemption, he’d still not be able to undo the misdeeds that spurred his personal quest for it. Yet her accursed vampiric state had been effectively and entirely undone.

Heike had placed Arethil at risk of yet another vampire to deal with, and all out of selfish desire to see herself human once more.

Yet she had still not murdered any.

His brooding internal debate would be brought to a cease by the interruption of a cry that rang through the air.

"ORCS! ORRRRRRCS!" the urgent call rang out, bidding all to act upon the announcement. Kiros did not hesitate, and was spurred into immediate motion with quarterstaff in hand.

He then sensed Itra’s presence once more, and heard the start of Her ominous warning:

Prepare for battle against undead hordes...

Heike Eisen Dal Gil'Tyrnin Solcrest Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Tarathrieal